Ian, I'm one of those who, because I skipped a grade, enjoyed always being the youngest in the group. Somehow, by some mysterious and speedy process, I'm now 74 and usually the oldest. I had a bad fall recently and feel age in my slowly-healing bones. So I smile to read you - how old are you anyway, 45?! - musing about old age. You've got a way to go, grasshopper. What helps me contemplate aging are my older friends - two women who at 96 are vibrant and energetic, one busy writing the second book of her life story (from 1952 to the present), the other, still a redhead, filling her calendar with cultural events. Ron who discovered writing at 89, wrote his first book at 90 and sends out a weekly Substack at 92. These are positive people who've been lucky in the health lottery, have enough funds to sustain themselves, and live in Canada with universal health care, all of which make aging much easier. Even if you, Ian, do nothing more than produce the fabulous and wise "John and Paul," you have made the world a better place. You can take it easy from now on.
Beth, I too skipped a grade (did you grow up in NYC?) and until about 20 years ago relished the experience of being the youngest in the room. Realizing at some point that I was suddenly the oldest was jarring. I love your strategy of finding older friends to enjoy and emulate while moving into vibrant older age.
Brenda, I was born in NYC but moved to Nova Scotia as a baby and was blessed to grow up in Canada. Having older friends is key. I just spent four days at my friend Ruth's cottage north of Toronto. Ruth is 86 and spends the entire summer on an island in the middle of a lake, steering her boat back and forth to pick up guests and groceries. She doesn't swim or kayak as much as she used to, but she's an exceptional host and always up to date with reading, news, TV shows. Another inspiration.
#13 is the absolute worst. The other day (i.e., sometime in the last 20 years) I looked up a teacher I'd had a crush on in 8th grade, only to be confronted with the face of a 75, 80 year old woman. I'm not sure what I reasonably expected, lol.
This really struck a nerve with me. Mostly or entirely owing to the genetic lottery, well into middle age I am routinely assumed to be much younger than I am. I understand that this is a great position to in, professionally and otherwise. But when people are genuinely shocked to learn your *actual* age, it’s kind of unsettling. While I don’t think it’s intended this way, the message is basically “I can’t believe you’re THAT OLD,” so you end up feeling pretty damn old.
Re ageing in general, it seems to me that it’s much like that thing of tugging on a length of elastic tied around a brick (has anyone ever done this?) Nothing much happens for a long long time, then suddenly it leaps up and smashes you in the face…
We are remembered by what we leave behind. It is remarkable that in 1945 over 70% of the population was considered working class with barely an examination certificate between them. Now it is approaching 50% who graduate, and 70% are considered middle class, all in two generations. I am aware that sociologists dispute the causes of these shifts but the evidence is before our eyes. Most middle class people now copy the upper classes in ensuring their children get a good education, help them buy property when they need it, encourage them to take risks by providing capital if it is necessary. The worst part of aging is the knowledge that one day you will leave all this behind. With luck, and some of my older friends had it, they saw their great grandchildren born before they left. The only advice worth offering to the younger generation is to make sure your pension income is at least 75% of your retirement salary and that, in many cases, they will live until they are 100.
“The worst part of aging is the knowledge that one day you will leave all this behind.” Yes. It will be hard to say goodbye.
I’m 52 and I think I’m wiser than I was in my 20s, in the sense that I believe I have growing clarity about what is important and what is not. We tend to mistake our passions for our identity. And the empathy, the simple awareness of others, that can come from life kicking you in the teeth is worth the pain. Maybe that’s easy for me to say because I have my health, I’m lucky that way, but I wouldn’t go back.
I appreciate you openly discussing a topic that most men prefer not to grapple with but I will say that my experience differs from yours in many ways.
It’s undeniable that we peak physically in our 20s and intellectually - at least in raw brainpower- in our 30s. If you are paying attention, you begin to notice the subtle signs of cognitive decline - the difficulty holding as many things in your head at once, reduced stamina for the long days of productivity, and minor lapses in short term memory - well before any obvious cognitive decline. And if you are smart, you learn coping mechanisms like note taking, to do lists, calendars, and taking a picture of your parked car.
Physical declines are more subtle and can be held back with regular physical activity. If you don’t have the discipline of exercise, you find yourself widening in uncomfortable and embarrassing ways and find it harder to summon the energy to keep up with your younger peers. If you pretend that you are not aging, you will inevitably fall further behind. These are the “use it or lose it” years and if you begin cycling or lifting weights now, odds are you can continue well into your 70s. But with each year, it’s harder to pick up a new good habit.
But if you embrace the knowledge and experience that comes with age, there are benefits that come with the downsides. It’s absolutely true that most men lack the self awareness to acknowledge who they are and this is especially difficult around the topic of aging. Being a middle-aged man often becomes a societal joke—the growing belly, receding hairline, and sexual dysfunction are cruel punchlines, especially painful when directed at oneself. Women don’t really have the luxury of ignoring their age: in a world where so much of a woman’s worth is based on her desirability, women learn from a very early on how to critically assess their looks and notice each crows foot and gray hair. Men can pretend that they get more attractive as they get older and perhaps for a tiny fraction of us it is true, but the almost impossible to face fact is that the attention of a dewy eyed nubile woman fades as we move into our 40s, to say nothing of our 50s and 60s and beyond. If that is the main measure of your worth, you will have to rethink your values. Plus there is the specter of death and its finality.
So it’s no surprise that many middle aged men fall into increasing levels of self-delusion: imagining that they can still party like they used to, that the banter with the barista is more than just good service, and that their shortening time on earth is best left unexamined.
It’s a terrible loss to let yourself age like this. Critical self examination is essential to intellectual and spiritual growth and it’s stunting on every level to live in a make believe reality. Yes, your body is not what is once was - but facing aging and the increasing importance of staying active can push you into a regimen of activity that not only promotes fitness but invigorates your mind and mood as well. Yes, the brain is more sluggish, but this gives you the opportunity to explore a different kind of intellect, one that is more thoughtful, more deliberate and more welcoming of ambiguity. Pretending that you are not aging not only makes you look foolish, it means you are leaning on increasingly weakening gifts while ignoring the opportunity to develop new ones, more fitting to your natural abilities.
Most importantly, you miss the chance to age well, and develop the facilities and knowledge you will need to gracefully navigate the next step of life: senescence and decrepitude. There are essential lessons to be learned at each time of life.
Everyone appreciates the man who ages well and takes on the mantels of responsibility that being a father, a boss, a mentor, and even a patriarch and leader requires. A man like will provide an example to younger men, who desperately need a version of masculinity to aspire to. You will miss this greatly fulfilling opportunity to provide a service to the greater community and meaning to your own life if you dodge or deny your maturity.
I'm 60. Old enough to have lived through a few generational political/cultural shifts; wise enough to know that more will be on the way; and arrogant enough to believe that some of the old ways were better. It's a wisdom I didn't have when I was 25.
I am 87 and remember being 60 and wondering what all the fuss about getting old was about. Then one day at the allotment when I was 63 I had the first intimation of a loss of energy. Instead of being able to work until the light faded I had to leave because I had no energy left.
Thanks for this bittersweet treat for another middle-aged man. I loved number 20, which made me think about all the gloriously rebellious (if predestined to fail) characters in literature (Milton's Satan, Molière's Don Juan, Don Quichotte, etc.). By their refusal to accept failure they sometimes seem to become greater than their author designed them to.
Regarding number 17 however, your point is interesting but I feel it is only part of the story, as we don't hear many people on their deathbeds lamenting that they chose to spend time with their kids instead of focusing more on their career.
But aren't those the people who die quietly surrounded by their families, who didn't build gigantic buildings and carve up mountains because they were spending time with their family? Their exits tend to be less noticed by the wider world. "Survivor bias" is the wrong word here, but it's something in that space!
Loved it, smiling in recognition all the way through, listening to Ellington (Apple Classical has a good recording) because, alas, I’m on the wrong side of a rather large body of water to be able to attend your live performance. Keep up the brilliant work, Ian.
Sort of speaking of growing old ... it's my husband's 65th birthday soon and I purchased John & Paul for him from a local indie bookshop. It was displayed right in the middle of the window. I asked the bookseller how it's going for them as I wasn't expecting it to be published here for a while (Australia). She said it has sold to the largest number of walk-ins they've ever had. I asked if it was because of the author or the title -- and it's the title, hands down. She didn't know who you are or that you have a Substack. It's a great example of the right title and strong product placement shifting copies without the author being a 'name'. Bravo! (OK, not really about growing old, I just wanted to share)
Absolutely bloody brilliant. I’m now trying to adapt, elegantly and creatively, between the opposing forces of a mind saying ‘carpe diem! Cadogan Hall! London!’ and a body that’s been told to take it easi(er).
And I’m not sure postponing the decision will help either, given that I won’t be any younger tomorrow.
I am 86. One of the oddities of my old age is not wanting anything in particular. I spent my entire life wanting things, big and little. Not wanting feels unmoored. I’m thinking about it.
Ian, I'm one of those who, because I skipped a grade, enjoyed always being the youngest in the group. Somehow, by some mysterious and speedy process, I'm now 74 and usually the oldest. I had a bad fall recently and feel age in my slowly-healing bones. So I smile to read you - how old are you anyway, 45?! - musing about old age. You've got a way to go, grasshopper. What helps me contemplate aging are my older friends - two women who at 96 are vibrant and energetic, one busy writing the second book of her life story (from 1952 to the present), the other, still a redhead, filling her calendar with cultural events. Ron who discovered writing at 89, wrote his first book at 90 and sends out a weekly Substack at 92. These are positive people who've been lucky in the health lottery, have enough funds to sustain themselves, and live in Canada with universal health care, all of which make aging much easier. Even if you, Ian, do nothing more than produce the fabulous and wise "John and Paul," you have made the world a better place. You can take it easy from now on.
Very kind, thank you, and get well soon.
Beth, I too skipped a grade (did you grow up in NYC?) and until about 20 years ago relished the experience of being the youngest in the room. Realizing at some point that I was suddenly the oldest was jarring. I love your strategy of finding older friends to enjoy and emulate while moving into vibrant older age.
Brenda, I was born in NYC but moved to Nova Scotia as a baby and was blessed to grow up in Canada. Having older friends is key. I just spent four days at my friend Ruth's cottage north of Toronto. Ruth is 86 and spends the entire summer on an island in the middle of a lake, steering her boat back and forth to pick up guests and groceries. She doesn't swim or kayak as much as she used to, but she's an exceptional host and always up to date with reading, news, TV shows. Another inspiration.
#13 is the absolute worst. The other day (i.e., sometime in the last 20 years) I looked up a teacher I'd had a crush on in 8th grade, only to be confronted with the face of a 75, 80 year old woman. I'm not sure what I reasonably expected, lol.
This really struck a nerve with me. Mostly or entirely owing to the genetic lottery, well into middle age I am routinely assumed to be much younger than I am. I understand that this is a great position to in, professionally and otherwise. But when people are genuinely shocked to learn your *actual* age, it’s kind of unsettling. While I don’t think it’s intended this way, the message is basically “I can’t believe you’re THAT OLD,” so you end up feeling pretty damn old.
😂
Re ageing in general, it seems to me that it’s much like that thing of tugging on a length of elastic tied around a brick (has anyone ever done this?) Nothing much happens for a long long time, then suddenly it leaps up and smashes you in the face…
We are remembered by what we leave behind. It is remarkable that in 1945 over 70% of the population was considered working class with barely an examination certificate between them. Now it is approaching 50% who graduate, and 70% are considered middle class, all in two generations. I am aware that sociologists dispute the causes of these shifts but the evidence is before our eyes. Most middle class people now copy the upper classes in ensuring their children get a good education, help them buy property when they need it, encourage them to take risks by providing capital if it is necessary. The worst part of aging is the knowledge that one day you will leave all this behind. With luck, and some of my older friends had it, they saw their great grandchildren born before they left. The only advice worth offering to the younger generation is to make sure your pension income is at least 75% of your retirement salary and that, in many cases, they will live until they are 100.
“The worst part of aging is the knowledge that one day you will leave all this behind.” Yes. It will be hard to say goodbye.
I’m 52 and I think I’m wiser than I was in my 20s, in the sense that I believe I have growing clarity about what is important and what is not. We tend to mistake our passions for our identity. And the empathy, the simple awareness of others, that can come from life kicking you in the teeth is worth the pain. Maybe that’s easy for me to say because I have my health, I’m lucky that way, but I wouldn’t go back.
I appreciate you openly discussing a topic that most men prefer not to grapple with but I will say that my experience differs from yours in many ways.
It’s undeniable that we peak physically in our 20s and intellectually - at least in raw brainpower- in our 30s. If you are paying attention, you begin to notice the subtle signs of cognitive decline - the difficulty holding as many things in your head at once, reduced stamina for the long days of productivity, and minor lapses in short term memory - well before any obvious cognitive decline. And if you are smart, you learn coping mechanisms like note taking, to do lists, calendars, and taking a picture of your parked car.
Physical declines are more subtle and can be held back with regular physical activity. If you don’t have the discipline of exercise, you find yourself widening in uncomfortable and embarrassing ways and find it harder to summon the energy to keep up with your younger peers. If you pretend that you are not aging, you will inevitably fall further behind. These are the “use it or lose it” years and if you begin cycling or lifting weights now, odds are you can continue well into your 70s. But with each year, it’s harder to pick up a new good habit.
But if you embrace the knowledge and experience that comes with age, there are benefits that come with the downsides. It’s absolutely true that most men lack the self awareness to acknowledge who they are and this is especially difficult around the topic of aging. Being a middle-aged man often becomes a societal joke—the growing belly, receding hairline, and sexual dysfunction are cruel punchlines, especially painful when directed at oneself. Women don’t really have the luxury of ignoring their age: in a world where so much of a woman’s worth is based on her desirability, women learn from a very early on how to critically assess their looks and notice each crows foot and gray hair. Men can pretend that they get more attractive as they get older and perhaps for a tiny fraction of us it is true, but the almost impossible to face fact is that the attention of a dewy eyed nubile woman fades as we move into our 40s, to say nothing of our 50s and 60s and beyond. If that is the main measure of your worth, you will have to rethink your values. Plus there is the specter of death and its finality.
So it’s no surprise that many middle aged men fall into increasing levels of self-delusion: imagining that they can still party like they used to, that the banter with the barista is more than just good service, and that their shortening time on earth is best left unexamined.
It’s a terrible loss to let yourself age like this. Critical self examination is essential to intellectual and spiritual growth and it’s stunting on every level to live in a make believe reality. Yes, your body is not what is once was - but facing aging and the increasing importance of staying active can push you into a regimen of activity that not only promotes fitness but invigorates your mind and mood as well. Yes, the brain is more sluggish, but this gives you the opportunity to explore a different kind of intellect, one that is more thoughtful, more deliberate and more welcoming of ambiguity. Pretending that you are not aging not only makes you look foolish, it means you are leaning on increasingly weakening gifts while ignoring the opportunity to develop new ones, more fitting to your natural abilities.
Most importantly, you miss the chance to age well, and develop the facilities and knowledge you will need to gracefully navigate the next step of life: senescence and decrepitude. There are essential lessons to be learned at each time of life.
Everyone appreciates the man who ages well and takes on the mantels of responsibility that being a father, a boss, a mentor, and even a patriarch and leader requires. A man like will provide an example to younger men, who desperately need a version of masculinity to aspire to. You will miss this greatly fulfilling opportunity to provide a service to the greater community and meaning to your own life if you dodge or deny your maturity.
This is great and depressing, thanks. 15 is 🤯
I'm 60. Old enough to have lived through a few generational political/cultural shifts; wise enough to know that more will be on the way; and arrogant enough to believe that some of the old ways were better. It's a wisdom I didn't have when I was 25.
I am 87 and remember being 60 and wondering what all the fuss about getting old was about. Then one day at the allotment when I was 63 I had the first intimation of a loss of energy. Instead of being able to work until the light faded I had to leave because I had no energy left.
Impeccable once again, Ian. I now feel rather more positive about it all.
Good!
Thanks for this bittersweet treat for another middle-aged man. I loved number 20, which made me think about all the gloriously rebellious (if predestined to fail) characters in literature (Milton's Satan, Molière's Don Juan, Don Quichotte, etc.). By their refusal to accept failure they sometimes seem to become greater than their author designed them to.
Regarding number 17 however, your point is interesting but I feel it is only part of the story, as we don't hear many people on their deathbeds lamenting that they chose to spend time with their kids instead of focusing more on their career.
But aren't those the people who die quietly surrounded by their families, who didn't build gigantic buildings and carve up mountains because they were spending time with their family? Their exits tend to be less noticed by the wider world. "Survivor bias" is the wrong word here, but it's something in that space!
Good \ brutal
Loved it, smiling in recognition all the way through, listening to Ellington (Apple Classical has a good recording) because, alas, I’m on the wrong side of a rather large body of water to be able to attend your live performance. Keep up the brilliant work, Ian.
Thank you
Sort of speaking of growing old ... it's my husband's 65th birthday soon and I purchased John & Paul for him from a local indie bookshop. It was displayed right in the middle of the window. I asked the bookseller how it's going for them as I wasn't expecting it to be published here for a while (Australia). She said it has sold to the largest number of walk-ins they've ever had. I asked if it was because of the author or the title -- and it's the title, hands down. She didn't know who you are or that you have a Substack. It's a great example of the right title and strong product placement shifting copies without the author being a 'name'. Bravo! (OK, not really about growing old, I just wanted to share)
Thank you!
Absolutely bloody brilliant. I’m now trying to adapt, elegantly and creatively, between the opposing forces of a mind saying ‘carpe diem! Cadogan Hall! London!’ and a body that’s been told to take it easi(er).
And I’m not sure postponing the decision will help either, given that I won’t be any younger tomorrow.
I am 86. One of the oddities of my old age is not wanting anything in particular. I spent my entire life wanting things, big and little. Not wanting feels unmoored. I’m thinking about it.
Included this in my latest Oldster Friday link roundup! https://oldster.substack.com/p/i-say-tomato